The Dovahkiin Chronicles
by Swex
Summary: After the Dragon Crisis and after Alduin was vanquished, hundreds of journal entries were collected from various criminal camps and fortresses. In these entries, the criminals speak of their encounters with Dovakiin in graphic detail.
1. Intro Letter

**Loredas, 25****th**** of Sun's Height**

I write this because I wish to create an understanding of the documents that are going to be presented within this memoir. Skyrim faced a crisis that rivaled even the Oblivion Crisis back in Cyrodiil. Dragons, once thought by some to be merely a myth designed to frighten the weak minded, returned to Skyrim to begin anew the plague of the enslavement of the races of Tamriel. They were brought forth by Alduin, the World Eater himself and the harbinger of everything thought to be horrifying in this world.

The maelstrom was quelled by the actions of one man we've come to know as Dovahkiin. The Dragonborn himself. He went to Sovengarde himself and slayed the World Eater once and for all. He is a hero to the people of Skyrim and to anyone who believes in the greater good. He defended us in our time of need, and for that we can never begin to repay him.

He led us in the charge to claim Skyrim from the Imperial occupiers as well. Dovahkiin sacrificed much of his time to help us reclaim our land, and it is due to his actions that we are able to stand tall over Skyrim and be proud of the land the Gods gave us.

However, Dovahkiin is still out there. He has homes in quite a few of the hold cities, and he is still watching out for the people of Skyrim. The Dragon invasion occupied all attention throughout its duration, but there were other smaller more subtle events occurring during this time as well. Dovahkiin was traveling throughout Skyrim disrupting the actions of bandits, necromancers, Forsworn, and murders alike.

We know this because shortly after Alduin was vanquished, a rogue bandit chief turned himself in to the guards at Dragonsreach. He was an Orc by the name of Brog gro-Ursim. To be honest, I've never seen an Orc so terrified in my life. He was a former Blood Kin that had usurped a chief in a stronghold somewhere in Skyrim before turning the stronghold into a Skooma smuggling operation. In my years as Jarl I have never seen a criminal like this turn themselves in, much less hear of this kind of thing happening. He presented us with a note that had been written by a mysterious person.

This may sound entirely insignificant, but I assure you it's not. This person sent this note to bandits, Forsworn, thieves, necromancers, and anyone else you can think of. We don't know who this person is, but their motive is quite clear. This message was sent as a warning. It is specifically a warning not to mess with Dovahkiin and to halt any and all operations in certain areas of Skyrim. I have never seen one man scare an entire legion of criminals in a section of Tamriel like this.

Thankfully, we don't have to guess what it was that Dovahkiin did to frighten these criminals. We have collected hundreds of journal entries from camps all over Skyrim detailing some of the events that occurred when these men and women encountered Dovahkiin for the first time. Our Stormcloak legions conducted raids on fortresses and caves, driving out criminals and finding even more of these journals. We found a wealth of information, and it was up to us to decide how to present it to the public.

I and the other Jarls convened with Ulfric Stormcloak in a lengthy council in order to determine when and if these entries would be published. It was agreed that they should be made public, and we scoured every single one of them to find the ones that we felt were the best choices. Those are the entries in which you will be reading.

I feel I must warn you that these entries are not for the faint of heart. They contain incredibly graphic language and vivid details of death and destruction. Dovahkiin is just like anyone in Skyrim. He is an opportunist.

In Skyrim, it is every man and woman for themselves. Morals are a massive grey area here, and opportunity abounds for anyone bold enough to take it. Dovahkiin seized that opportunity every day. He fought for the greater good in the long run, but he was still an opportunist. He leads the major Guilds to this day, and he is everywhere at once.

What follows this are the entries that we have chosen to be presented to you, the good people. The first entry is the warning message sent to all the criminals in Skyrim.

I urge you to read all of these, as they are an incredible look into the day to day operations of one of the most revered heroes and warriors Skyrim will ever see.

With regards,

Jarl Vignar Grey-Mane, Whiterun


	2. A Warning to All

**Sundas, 12****th**** of Sun's Height**

Jarl's Note: This is the note we received from Brog gro-Ursim, the Orc bandit chief who turned himself in to us at Dragonsreach. Again, I stress that these entries contain graphic language. They're also highly amusing. Read on.

"To all Forsworn, Bandits, Necromancers, and all others concerned,

I know all of you are looking for weak, innocent people to rob, kill, maim, gut, murder in the name of Sithis, and reanimate, but heed these words. There's a guy out there. This isn't some city guard or some wannabe adventurer. This is a guy whom we have inevitably discovered, doesn't fuck around. They call him Dovahkiin, apparently. He speaks to Dragons. You know, those leathery winged harbingers of death that you see flying around burned up cities and towns? He doesn't just speak to them. He kills them. We know this because every time he's been seen, he's wearing armor made from their scales and bones. Just, just think about that one for a moment. He's wearing armor made of fucking Dragons that he killed. He didn't buy that shit in Whiterun! In fact, a contact in Riverwood saw him forging that armor.

Jerry saw him killing a Dragon yesterday. An Ancient Dragon. The toughest of all the beasts next to the World Eater Alduin himself. Jerry doesn't speak Dragon, but he said he's pretty sure the thing was screaming obscenities of regret. Jerry ran before Dovahkiin could turn and see him. We think he was probably spotted anyway. Just to be safe, we're burning the hideout and moving elsewhere.

He also wears a mask. Not because he's ugly. A guy like this probably gets more pussy than any of us. I digress. The mask he wears USED to belong to a Dragon Priest. A Dragon Priest whom he murdered then pried the mask off his face after invading his lair. Dragon Priests, as you may well know, are the leading cause of death to anyone or anything that wanders aimlessly into their lairs. And this guy is wearing the face of one of them. He probably has more. He has to.

Oh, wait. Another thing. Before I forget. THIS is important. He carries a large sword with him. This isn't some steel sword you can buy at a forge. This thing, we've concluded, is forged with the souls of dead children. I've been told the sword has little faces carved into it. Faces that wear the expressions of the victims it has slaughtered. You won't be able to usually see these faces though. The sword is usually covered in blood. You know, the blood of all the dragons and shit he's talked to and then killed.

I can't even really believe I need to tell you this, but this fucking guy is dangerous. He is to be treated as an extremely hostile, lethal, blood crazed human being that will attack anything that so much as throws a twig at him. You people still haven't learned, because we keep finding bodies everywhere. Let me help you. I'll talk slow so you can understand what you need to be doing.

Necromancers. If you're gonna murder and reanimate the corpses of the dead, maybe find some deeper caves to do it in. I'm not saying this is infallible. He'll probably find you eventually if you keep it up. Just, don't do this shit out in the open you know? And for fuck sake stagger things! Maybe do it on a weekend, then maybe on a random day of the week. Shake things up. Don't be stupid.

Forsworn. Stay in your goddamn camps! Sure, venture out to hunt food, but take off those antlers and shit! Just blend in. Do your thing, hunt your food, and stay in your camps. Worship your Gods of Old in peace and do it quietly! If Dovahkiin is spotted, just play it cool, don't make any kind of crazy eye contact, and let him walk by. If he decides to walk through your camp, just sit there and say NOTHING.

Bandits. Well, you jackoffs have it harder. You make a living robbing and killing people. Dovahkiin can spot that shit from across Skyrim. And do something about your idiot Highwaymen. Robbing people out in the open is a damned fine way to get pimp slapped in the face with an enchanted, blood soaked sword. I really don't know what to say to you guys other than stop being Bandits. Which is gonna be hard, but if you don't feel like dying, this is the path to take.

Fuck, ONE more thing I forgot to mention. This Dovahkiin guy has a FRIEND that happens to be a Dragon. I talked to a bandit the other day who witnessed him walking too close to a Giant camp. The Giants attacked him, bless their defensive hearts. He killed one, then called this Dragon from the heavens to take care of the Mammoths. You can imagine how it played out. Dovhkiin has some Mammoth tusks now to call his own.

The gist of this letter is to tell you to stay the FUCK away from this guy. Stop trying to kill him. Just, just knock it off. Personally, none of us can afford to lose any more men and women. Don't try to attack him in large groups. He has that Dragon buddy, lest you forget. Which you will. You idiots always do.

Goddamn, I just remembered half of you jack wagons can't even READ! Why'd I write this?"


	3. Forsworn Entry 1

Jarl's Note: This is the first entry of the many Forsworn entries we've gathered up. We decided to group the entries together based on whatever group wrote them. For all intents and purposes, we've decided to start with the Forsworn first. At some point we'll present entries from other groups, and then maybe come back to the Forsworn. We'll keep it fresh for the readers out there, but in general it is fascinating peering into the true mindset of some of these people. Now, it is widely known that the Forsworn are aggressive as all hell and completely out of their damned minds. That makes it all the more surprising that the Dovahkiin was easily able to frighten these crazy bastards. Anyway, here's the entry.

**Morndas, 1****st**** of Sun's Dawn**

My first entry in this log book here. My name is Jeran, and I've been a member of the Forsworn since I was a young boy. My father had always taught me to fight for what I believe in. Now here I sit, 32 years old in some cold, damp camp in the middle of Bumblefuck in the woods. I didn't make that up either, it's a real location. It's located anywhere the trees get so thick that no person in their right mind would camp there. I keep this journal because it's my only release from the grueling lifestyle we all live as Forsworn. Makras is our chief, and he insists that we stay as far out of sight as we can. Alduin is gone, but sure as shit there are still dragons hanging around Skyrim.

Horace and Greta saw one the other day off in the distance when they were hunting. They followed it for a while until they eventually came to a small convoy of merchants. The idiots attacked the convoy and killed everyone. I've told them before that we aren't trying to be bandits here. We have a purpose, as opposed to those dickheads that just wanna rob for the fun of it. We're trying to take back our land, dammit! They always forget that, but they DID make off with some nice merchandise. We're not one for normal clothes, but they came back to camp with some decent food and some supplies we can use to strengthen our armor. So hey, I guess they aren't as stupid as they look.

We've been hearing howling at night in the woods. Thomas is superstitious, believing that there are werewolves out there. I'm not sure I buy into that shit, but I guess it's possible. Skyrim is big and I've seen trolls with my own eyes. If dragons can exist, then who knows what else is out there. I think they're just normal wolves though. I saw one the other day nearby eating a dead rabbit. It looked at me and then resumed eating. I've seen a couple others but they don't seem bothered by us. I bet it's the armor and the antlers. I always figured they were good for something.

Horace and Greta left the bodies of the merchants down on the road. I told them it was a stupid move. If the Stormcloak patrols come across them, they may be able to track us. I don't think they'd come this far into the woods, but hell if I know.

I've taken to rolling up my bedroll and storing it in a crate inside my tent to keep it from getting too damp. It seems to work so far, and I'm trying to convince the others to do the same thing. Makras doesn't let us anywhere near his tent, so I have no idea what he's doing to sleep so fucking well. He looks well rested every day that I see him.

Makras has just ordered me to send a couple scouts to the bluff not far from here. It's about a minute's walk and it overlooks the road where the merchants' bodies lay. He wants them to check things out and keep an eye out for patrols. We might end up going and hiding them. Even then, I think it was stupid to attack people on a road in plain sight like that. Horace and Greta should be exiled from the camp if you ask me. It puts us all at risk when we only have so many resources to work with. I sent Thomas and Wothro to the bluff. They're the two in the camp most attuned to the woods and to their weaponry. They're the veterans.

Well, they've just come back. There's good news and there's bad news. The good news is there are no patrols in sight on the road. Then again, that's the fucking GOOD news. The bad news is that someone has found the bodies. Some big guy in what appeared to be some kind of strange armor. Thomas is afraid, claiming the guy is connected to the werewolves. Thomas is a good warrior, but I'll be damned if I can figure out why he's so obsessed with the damn werewolves. I think he must be into some weird shit. Werewolf porn, and he must read it before bed. I told Makras something isn't right with the guy, but hell if I know if he'll listen to me or not.

Wothro told me they hid well behind the big rocks up there on the bluff. It's far enough away that you'd never see us hiding there, yet close enough that we have a commanding view of the road. I guess according to Wothro this guy was just crouching over the bodies, looking for something. They don't know if he's looking for loot, or if he's looking for clues. They saw him stand up and head to the side of the road the bluff is on. He was wearing some kind of mask so they didn't get any look at his face at all. He just stood there looking around and that's when they quietly made their way back here. By the Gods I'm getting the willies just thinking about it. What if he saw them? There's always that chance.

Makras is pissed. He feels they should have tried to kill him, or stayed and made sure he for sure left the location before they came back here. Thomas defended their actions by saying he looked like someone whom nobody should fuck with. Which is great in my book. Just great. Some crazy looking guy is probably still not far from our camp, which means I'll sleep just fucking peachy tonight. It's already dark anyway, so I'm turning in for the night. I'm not on watch tonight, so I get to sleep soundly in my tent. We got Horace and Wothro on watch thankfully. Horace is dumb but Wothro will keep him in check. I'll sleep with my sword by my side as always. My father taught me that one, too.

Until tomorrow, I sleep under the watch of the Old Gods.


	4. Forsworn Entry 2

Jarl's Note: This particular entry marks the point in which these Forsworn come to a disturbing realization. I can't believe it took them even this long to realize who they were up against, but, no, you know what? I'm not surprised here. These are half naked people that live in the goddamn woods.

**Tirdas, 2****nd**** of Sun's Height**

Jeran here. Makras is pissed again. See, that's the theme of this camp. Makras being pissed. Maybe if he has hired some semi-COMPETENT Forsworn troops for this little establishment we're running, maybe we wouldn't be neck deep in the shit that we're in right now.

Nobody even thought of this until today. That guy that discovered the bodies? The bodies of those merchants Fuckhead One and Fuckhead Two killed? In the middle of the goddamn road that hundreds of people travel every week? He's probably the Dovahkiin. The guy that can shout dragons apart. The guy that went into Sovengarde and killed Alduin. Sovengarde, for anyone that doesn't know this, is the Nordic version of the afterlife. Where men and women go to become REAL men and women.

How could we have not seen this? There's a very likely chance that he knows who did this and where we are. He's probably marching his happy fucking murder-fueled shell of a soul up here right now to dish out a world of pain and blood on all of us. All for what, some damned merchants? I told Makras we should sell Horace and Greta out. Who cares if she's our only woman in the camp? They're idiots! They're gonna get us all killed by a man who also happens to be a small God that carries a sword hewn from the bones of the Daedra sent from the darkest depths of Oblivion to wipe their asses with our heads. But hey, hey at least we got some goddamn supplies for our armor out of this!

Thomas is screaming now, pointing at something at the edge of the woods. I'm looking and I see a sabre cat fighting a guy, and the guy is opening a can of whoop ass all over this ridiculous cat. The guy is wearing armor made from…fucking dragon bones. It's him. Gods fuck us all it has to be him!

Makras is yelling for Thomas to come back to camp where we can regroup. Smart choice. If I'm gonna go down, I'm going down fighting with my Forsworn brothers and sisters.

And there goes that plan. Right out the fucking window. Thomas ran down there swinging his sword hoping to strike the guy down. Thomas is now without a head. What's good about this is now Thomas never has to worry about his little werewolves ever again. What's bad about this is now the fucking Dovakiin is pissed off. And we're gonna pay for this. Wothro just told me this is the same guy that they saw searching the bodies. I guess we're all jolly well fucked then, aren't we?

Except the guy isn't moving. He's just standing there, staring at us. He's still a good two hundred or so feet away, but that's about it. He's standing next to the body of the sabre cat, just holding his sword and shield. I can't see his face, because he has some kind of odd mask on. It has tusks, which for some reason makes the whole situation goddamned worse. I can feel the hatred coming off of him. It reminds of the hatred I felt when I fucked that bar wench down in Riften and left without leaving a tip.

It's been two hours now, and the sun has gone down. And you know what? Dovahkiin is STILL standing down there in the woods. He hasn't moved. He still has his sword and shield out. A troll came along, took one look at the guy, and sprinted off into the woods. I have no shame about this. I told Makras if he starts up that hill toward us I'm bugging the fuck out and sprinting for my life. He didn't seem to mind the sentiment. This guy kills dragons when he gets bored. We're wearing fur and antlers. I already felt like a douchebag for wearing this stuff, but now I feel like an unprotected idiot.

Makras thought maybe we should holler down and try to talk to the guy. That idea lasted for about ten seconds before we decided it was stupid and a good way to earn a bloody death.

Horace and Wothro are on watch, and Makras is too. I've been told to get some sleep, because I'm taking over watch in a few hours. We'll be rotating. Greta and I will take watch after we sleep. Not that I wanna watch the guy. He gives me the creeps. But I have my weapons with me. Not that they're gonna help against a pissed off guy wearing dragon armor. Who has dragon blood inside him. But I'm sure as shit not going down without a fight!

Until tomorrow, I sleep under the watch of the Old Gods.


	5. Forsworn Entry 3

Jarl's Note: On this entry it would appear that Makras and the rest of his camp have decided to attempt to move to a nearby ruined fort in hopes of getting better protection against the Dovahkiin. Poor bastards have no idea do they? No idea that fleeing to a fort is really pointless against a guy like Dovahkiin. But, read on.

**Middas, 3****rd**** of Sun's Height**

Makras woke me early this morning. Apparently the Dovahkiin disappeared in the night. Just walked the hell off into the woods. We don't see him anywhere nearby and there appears to be no sign of the guy. I guess I'm not surprised a guy like him can just fucking vanish whenever the hell he wants. It's like a game to him, isn't it? We talked about going down there and getting Thomas's body back. Guy was paranoid as hell, but he deserves a decent burial. But then I thought about it, and I realized that it has to be a goddamn setup. I may wear fur and antlers, but I wasn't born yesterday. Not like these idiots.

Yeah yeah, they're idiots. I'm the only one that reads this damn log, so I can write whatever the hell I want. Plus, none of these jackasses can read anyway. That's one of the reasons the Forsworn have kept me in high standing. I've been trying to teach them how to read. There isn't enough fucking mead in Skyrim to be able to handle teaching these morons to read. I'd have better luck having a serious conversation with a damn giant.

In any case, Makras has us moving through the woods early. He told us we are going to a place called Broken Tower Redoubt. A massive fort east of Karthwasten. Our other brethren are there, and we'll be better protected. Fuck I hope. Anything is better than the flimsy, half-assed tents we've been living in. Makras is on the good stuff if he thinks those tents are gonna prevent our decapitation at the hands of that madman out there.

I could have sworn we're being followed. I mean, what kind of idiot is just gonna leave and not bother to find out where we're headed? Of course Makras is telling all of us that our minds were playing tricks on us. He's one to talk. HIS cranium is crammed into twenty pounds of antlers. He isn't exactly the leading authority on common sense. I'll write more when we get to the fort.

We arrived at the fort about an hour ago. The head Forsworn at the fort is a whack job named Waylon, and I can't even begin to tell you how fucked up this guy is. For starters, there isn't a day out of his life that he isn't hopped up on Nordic mead. He's been blabbing about how the fort really isn't safe and that there are werewolves in the woods nearby. Fuck, another one of these guys? Thomas was a werewolf fanatic and now he's dead. I told Waylon not to buy into the crazy shit out there, because then he'll act reckless and we'll all be in danger. Makras started in on the mead too, and with these two guys leading us, we'll be dead soon.

Dovahkiin is gonna walk through these guys like they're nothing. Because they are. This fort is damn well protected, but we just have a bunch of idiots in charge of it. We lock the doors and we retreat to the lower levels and NOTHING is gonna get us. Shit, I'll be sleeping good for the first time in ages. Not sure why we'd even need to leave here. I've told everyone that we just need to hunker down and stay out of sight. Greta and Horace agree with me, but Wothro is still on the fence. If Makras and Wothro wanna head back out into the woods, that's fine with me. As far as I'm concerned, Makras isn't my chief anymore. It's every man and woman for himself in this damned fort, and I feel a lot more confident now than I did out there. I'll ignore the fact that we have idiots running the place and actually get some real sleep. Wothro and I are sharing a room in the lower levels. It actually feels safe down here.

Until tomorrow, I sleep under the watch of the Old Gods.


	6. Forsworn Entry 4

Jarl's Note: End of the line for our Forsworn friends here. This entry marks the day the Dovahkiin found Broken Tower Redoubt and began killing the Forsworn within. Jeran did what any man in his position would do. He got shitfaced on mead. Read on.

**Turdas, 4****th**** of Sun's Height**

Well, a lot of fucking good that did us. This fort? Why'd we come here? Here I sit in my room, drinking myself to death, listening to the screams within this forsaken place. Let's go to Broken Tower Redoubt, Makras said. He'll never find us there, he said. It's only a big goddamn stone tower in the middle of a field! Not like it stands out or anything. No, there was NO way the guy was gonna find us here!

Horace left to help fight along with Greta. They weren't gone but a few minutes before Greta came back to the room and locked the door. She was bleeding pretty bad, said the Dovahkiin stabbed her in the stomach after cutting off Horace's head. She was able to stagger away while more of our cohorts kept him busy. He was still wearing that fu…fucking armor too. I gave her some mead to calm her and help her forget about her wounds. Wrapped the wounds as best I could but sadly she died in here with me. Best that she died in my company I think.

I'm on my fifth pint of mead. This shit…wow. Not sure what kind of unholy vessel these crazy jackoffs brewed this from but I wanna know where they got it from. I've never felt like this before. I bet this is how dogs SEE.

Oh, remember Thomas and his obsession with werewolves? Turns out that crazy fuck was right on the money. Dovahkiin brought werewolves with him. They stormed into the upper levels of the fort and just started slicing people to pieces. I'm hoping I can drink myself to death before they find me down here. Maybe if I'm lucky they'll never find me down here.

Come to think of it, one of the werewolves looked like my ex-wife. She was pretty hairy.

Why the hell did I join these guys? I thought they'd be a group of battle tested warriors who lived off the land and claimed all the best territory for themselves. Instead they turned out to be complete idiots who like to get naked for each other and piss off guys that happen to already be angry and who kill fucking DRAGONS for fun. This was information I wish I would have known before I signed with these people. This is stuff you fucking TELL someone.

Pissing off small Gods is one thing, but getting NAKED for each other? Come on with that!

I think they're getting closer. I KNOW they're getting closer. I can hear the werewolves pacing the halls, just looking for people. I think they know where we are, and they're just fucking with us. Dovahkiin is close. I know he is. He's scouring the entire fort. Searching every room, every hall, every nook.

On my sixth pint now. This stuff is great. I think I cut my hand though. Not sure which hand I cut. There are lots of hands. I think it's the one on the far left.

I hear something outside. You know, every damn night I've been sleeping under the watch of the Old Gods. May as well drink with them now. I think someone is trying to pick the door. Shit, better find my sword. Where'd I leave it…

SHIT! Which sword is it? There's like, fifty! Sixty!

Oh hey, there's another barrel of mead in here. Maybe the Dovahkiin would like a drink!


	7. Necromancer Entry 1

Jarl's Note: We've decided to display some journal entries left by a group of Necromancers. These guys are something else. Never mind the fact that they reanimate the dead for Nine's sake. They're truly insane, but in a different manner than our Forsworn friends. These entries are an outstanding look into what makes these people tick.

**Morndas, 2****nd**** of Last Seed**

The name is Harold Traven. I come from a long line of mages, and my father used to be the Arch Mage of the Mage's Guild in Cyrodiil. He has since passed on, as has my mother. I have no more immediate family left in my bloodline as I have grown in age as a High Elf. I turned to what many would call the "dark arts". Necromancy as it is known as. Nobody understands. We do what we do for the better of Tamriel. Bringing loved ones back to life, who doesn't dream of that? Sure, we use some of them to fight and defend us, but that's a sacrifice that has become a necessary evil in our line of work. Life's a bitch. Get it?

My group has made our home in a cave in the reaches of Skyrim called Boulderfall Cave. It's tiny, and we've rigged bone traps to detect any intruders. We're all crammed in here practicing our work, but its home for now. I've come to like Skyrim. I came here from Cyrodiil after my parents had gone, and I've settled in nicely. Everyone in the group is on the same page. We're working together like a team. A great team. Our leader, Eleanor Tarnas, sent me out today to gather ingredients. She told me to find what I could in the wild, and to go into town as a last resort. I found what we needed, however. Lotta Deathbell. The area seems rife with it.

I did, however, witness something peculiar and a bit troubling.

I had passed the corpse of a large cave bear not far from our hideout. It was cut deep at the throat, and it was obvious to me a sword had done the deed. No other animal can do that kind of precise damage. I thought nothing of it. Perhaps a skilled adventurer defending themselves. Poor bastard either way, but it was a hell of a thing to see.

The disturbing part was the two trolls I spotted on a rocky bluff due east of me. They were stalking and attacking something or someone. It didn't take me long to spot the person they had set upon. It was a large guy, had to be a Nord. I can spot a Nord from a mile away. I lived in fuckin' Bruma long enough. I digress. This guy was wearing bone armor. Dragon bone armor. Anyone who lives anywhere in Skyrim knows who wears goddamn dragon bone armor.

The Dovahkiin.

My group and I aren't simple Bandit thugs. We're informed. We know about the guy. That's why we stay out of sight. He can't find us if we stay underground. But I watched him out of sight. He acted as if he were being attacked by two retarded Skooma dealers. Just cut these fucking trolls down like they were nothing. Trolls can't think, they aren't smart. If they were smart they wouldn't try to make an afternoon snack out of a crazed man who slays Dragons when he's bored. But he took care of them. No problem.

He hovered over their bodies for a bit. Looked like he was checking them out. It was at this point one of my cohorts, Terias, came up behind me with an armful of mushrooms he had gathered. I tried to point out to him where I saw the Dovahkiin, but by then the guy was gone. Guess he moved on.

He gave me an uneasy feeling, like we shouldn't be there. Terias and I went back to the cave. I don't like what I saw, but Eleanor wants us in this area. She says it's the best for ingredients, and Riften isn't too far.

Hopefully the Dovahkiin won't come back around here for a while.

Harold Traven, entry complete.


	8. Necromancer Entry 2

Jarl's Note: I was a bit disappointed in these guys. It took them almost no time at all to screw up and piss off the Dovahkiin. Even the Forsworn took longer, and these men and women are expert Mages! Nevertheless, it's you can imagine the urgent fear these idiots felt. They're gonna try to make an epic journey to escape. Read on.

**Middas, 4****th**** of Last Seed**

Shit. Shit shit shit. Harold here. We fucked up. By the Nine we are screwed. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't. I was out scouting with Terias and another cohort, Larissa. My god these two really are idiots. They're young, but they're still morons.

The Dovahkiin found us. Or we found him. I'm not really sure what the true nature of the situation is because the end result is the same. He was walking through our section of the woods and stopped to look at us. Larissa and Terias panicked. I tried to tell them to leave him be but they conjured up some corpses and sent them after the guy. What in the loving fuck are two rotting corpses gonna do?! Rub their stink off on him? No, no NO. They're gonna piss him off, that's what they're gonna do. And by no coincidence, that's what they did.

Here's the thing. I sent a skeleton into the fray. Look, we needed time to escape, ok? Terias and Larissa aren't yet skilled enough to conjure up skeletons. The corpses weren't gonna keep the Dovahkiin busy for very long. It was up to me to get the three of us out of there. So I sent the damn thing and we ran. We sprinted as fast as we could and ran into another of our group, Gregory. Larissa just grabbed him and pulled him along with us. There was no time to explain.

We made it back to the cave. Eleanor is pissed. That's putting it mildly. She is more pissed that the Dovahkiin may know where our cave is. She has ordered us to pack up. She told us we'll be heading across Skyrim toward Solitude. There's a cave up there and a friend of hers is running some scheme to awaken some long dead bitch that ruled over wolves or something. I don't know. She's sending me to Riften to buy some disguises. Hammerfell garbs. That way we'll look like we're just passing through back to our "homeland". I put on some blue robes so as to not look evil and such. I'll write more when I get back.

The trip was surprisingly uneventful. Mostly. I spotted him there, in Riften. The Dovahkiin. He was heading into Mistveil Keep. I kept my hood up and just played it cool. Bought our disguises and left quickly. I felt better on the walk back to Boulderfall knowing the guy wasn't gonna show up. He was all the way back in the palace, so I had a head start. We donned our disguises and immediately headed out once Eleanor found out we had that head start. Can't blame her. Guy is damn scary.

We did better than I thought we would. We left mid-morning and didn't stop to rest once. We got to Whiterun and we're staying here tonight. It's late and we're exhausted, but we gotta get to Wolfskull by tomorrow. No buts about it. Terias thought we were being followed at one point, but I think paranoia is just setting in. We spotted a couple Stormcloak patrols during the journey, but they didn't pay us any mind. I'm less scared of them anyway.

But that Dovahkiin? He can fuck right off.

Harold Traven, entry complete.


	9. Necromancer Entry 3

Jarl's Note: This is probably my favorite entry to date. These poor bastards just can't win. That's kind of an ongoing theme with these entries, if you haven't picked up on that by now. What am I saying, of course you have! And you're no doubt laughing at the misfortune of these people. Karma is alive and well and it's always funny. Always.

**Fredas, 6****th**** of Last Seed**

Harold here. We made it to Wolfskull. That's the good news. It's nice, if not a bit gloomy. I guess that's fitting for a bunch of corpse loving shitheads like us isn't it? Wait. That didn't come out right. It's fitting for a bunch of idiots obsessed with dead bodies. FUCK. No, that's not what I'm insinuating! Forget it, just, forget the shit. That's not the point.

I ventured into Solitude with Larissa today. She has a friend that works in the Blue Palace so she went to say hello. We have our blue robes on again, so we should be fine. I've been browsing the stores, checking out the city. I've never been here before. Word around town is that this is where the Bard's College is. I'll pass on that. The music annoys the living shit out of me. I'm sitting on a bench by the local Inn writing this entry.

Oh hey, there's Larissa. She's running. Looks scared. That's something. She doesn't scare easy. She must have stolen something again. Girl always was a klepto and I TOLD her it was gonna get her into some shit. Why don't these kids listen? She's out of breath, but I'll hear her out.

SON OF A BITCH! The Dovahkiin was in the Blue Palace! Talking to the Jarl. How did the shit get here so fast! Is he RIDING those Dragons now? I mean, how? WHY?! He's fucking with us. He KNOWS. HE KNOWS!

No, seriously, he knows. About Wolfskull Cave. About the efforts to resurrect Potema. Yes, Wolf bitch has a name. She has one. And you know what? It doesn't matter. The Jarl's happy little Steward Fucker McFuckerton told the Dovahkiin about the whole thing. I guess he's gonna investigate it. Which means he'll be storming the cave and coming for us all. We're running back now. We have to warn the others. I know how this works. "Investigate" is simply fancy Dovahkiin talk for "I'm gonna gut some bitches alive and feed them to their whore mothers". My mother is dead. This bodes worse for me.

We're back at the cave. Nobody here outside of our little group seems to give half a shit about the Dovahkiin. I don't even think they believe us. Idiots! We've decided to leave these jackoffs to their little ceremony. We can't leave the cave though, he'll find us. So, we're gonna do what master Necromancer Mages would do.

We're gonna hide. Not even kidding.

There are places here I don't think he'll search. At least they can bide us some time. While he's busy "investigating" the others and gutting them alive and feeding them to their whore mothers, we can sneak on out of here.

Then again, is it worth it? Eleanor thinks so. She's the leader, but I'm not sold on living life on the run. Should we apologize to the guy? Hey there Dovahkiin, I'm sorry I sent an angry skeleton to jack up your world? Would he even accept the damn apology? Dragons can talk. Did any of them try to apologize? Maybe they did and maybe he was a dick and killed them anyway.

Either way, we're hiding. Let the others deal with him.

Harold Traven, entry complete.


	10. Necromancer Entry 4

Jarl's Note: This is the end of the line for our Necromancer friends here. These always end the same. Yet they never seem to get any less entertaining. The Dovahkiin is like a justice machine on two legs. Even the slightest hint of injustice is enough to put the scent of blood in his nose. And when he smells it, he won't stop until any miscreant in his path is taken care of .

**Loredas, 7****th**** of Last Seed**

Harold here, for the last time. I say that because I'm gonna fucking die. See, our little hiding places didn't work. The Dovahkiin has some of kind of pre-natural sense when it comes to dark caves and ruins. He just knows where he is and where he needs to go.

Larissa and Terias are dead. Eleanor and Gregory went to join the fray. I guess they resurrected Potema or came close or something. Potema is gonna be mighty disappointed when she gets back on her feet and gets a sword up her cornhole. I'm still hiding in a small room that I feel is out of the way enough that I may be able to sneak out. But I'm still unsure. It's only a matter of time before he finds me.

Terias and Larissa both attempted to send their little rotted resurrected corpses after the Dovahkiin. Hey, I know it'd kill them both, but fuck it. Kids need to have hope. They need to have goals. Who am I to stand in the way of their hopes and dreams? If they feel that they have a chance to kill a Dragon murdering madman with a couple of desecrated bodies flopping around all over the place, then goddammit more power to them.

But they're dead. It was a valiant effort. Actually, no it wasn't. Terias ran screaming like a little bitch while Larissa got her head lopped off. I gotta say, that sword of his is really good for removing of heads. I mean it's like a knife through butter. Clean and fast. I was impressed. Then I realized my head would be next. He actually chased Terias down and liberated him of his head as well. I didn't know a guy in heavy Dragon bone armor could run so damned fast, but hey he's the Dovahkiin.

I bet Alduin is laughing right now. I mean, wouldn't you be? The World Eater couldn't stop the Dovahkiin. He probably thinks it's the funniest joke watching us try. His blackened soul is probably floating around somewhere, and his new purpose in life is to mock anyone too stupid to get the living fuck out of the Dovahkiin's way. And that's what we are. Stupid. We should have left him alone.

I should have listened to my father. He was wise. He didn't just say "Don't do Necromancy". He was specific. I remember his warning to me every time he tucked me into bed for the night. "Remember Harry, if you reanimate dead things some guy wearing a Dragon's body is gonna come gut you alive and feed you to your whore mother". Then mom would scream obscenities at him for calling her that and the mead would flow and the next day he'd be off at the Arcane University like nothing happened. But I remember his warnings. I should have heeded them.

I can hear him coming. I guess this is it. It's quiet. Guess he cut through everyone else no problem. Hell with it. I'm sending out another skeleton. I've named it Boris, and he will be the bravest skeleton anyone has ever known.

And Boris is now running the other way. He dropped his axe. His middle finger is extended toward me.

Great. Fucking great.


End file.
